'Quite natural, dear, and very nice. Pray, forgive my poor, poor little joke. You remember my foolish fondness for being lively, or trying, at least; for it is not easily done in the lonely country life we lead here. Oh, why will Lady Caroline not improve her health by an autumn at Baden Baden? Pray now, tell me the news, since you are staying at a house full of visitors. Young Sangster is home, is he? Home for the holidays, one might say, for he is duller than many a schoolboy. But his friend. Tell me about _him_--what is he like! Rich, I suppose, or mamma would not endanger Miss Sophia's peace of mind by his presence. He will be eligible from an Auchlippie point of view, and if that is not a very ornamental one, at least it is pretty solid. Old MacSiccar, the writer, dined with the General last week, and he spoke of old Sangster as one of the warmest men hereabouts. So, my dear, you might do worse than go in for gaukie Peter. I half meditate a descent myself, only it would be a long run over a very heavy country, as a Leicestershire friend of mine phrases it. But tell me about the friend. Is he nice? The two shot with Captain John yesterday over Whauprigg moor, and they were expected for dinner, but there was some mistake about dressing bags, so we ladies never saw them. Cousin Kenneth says they are horrid cads both, but then his regiment are a parcel of supercilious puppies, so we need not mind that. What is the friend's name?' 'Wallowby.' 'Don't like the sound of it. Is he moderately nice? and is he rich?' 'They say he is very rich indeed, and has more in expectation from a bachelor uncle--a mill owner.' 'Ah! Those mill owners are tremendous people. And is he nice?' 'Really I don't know--That is a matter of taste.' 'Well, does he please your taste, Miss Precision?' 'I find him very polite and attentive, more so indeed than I care for. I think fussy people are apt to put me out, and it seems difficult to converse with him. I suppose my being Scotch prevents my knowing the things he talks best about.' 'And has Miss Sophia made an impression, do you think? Or is she impressed herself?' 'Indeed I don't know.' 'Ah! forgive me. I am so forgetful, but you know I mean no harm. I remember now, there is some _tendresse_ between your brother and her. She certainly is handsome, and I hope he will get her if he wishes it, though, _entre nous_, she always struck me as a dull girl. Like a wedding cake, only good to look at.' Here Briggs knocked and entered, with a bundle of white roses, each flushing into pinkish creaminess at the heart. 'With Captain Drysdale's compliments for Miss Brown.'